this is the last part in 'i didn't have any fever fudge' as a subplotline. now, as for the rest... i can go in two ways: i can either end it in one or two more parts with this current time frame, or i cut to Percy about ten years from now (Molly and Lucy would be 16) and it'll be 4-5 parts at the very least. i haven't decided yet.

The Devil Wears Second-Hand Robes

Chapter Thirty-Four: I Didn't Have Any Fever Fudge! Part 8

"What happened? Tripped on parchment?" Madam Malkin asked when Percy wheeled himself into her shop.

No, you withering old hippogriff, I had a stroke, Percy thought to himself, staring at her with tired blue eyes.

You'd think being wheeled around Diagon Alley all day meant that you could doze off for an hour or two. Babies did it all the time when they were in strollers, but Charlie had the elegance of an eight-limbed towering mountain troll. He'd seen more graceful Beaters get slammed by their own Bludgers. As Madam Malkin went to ask him if he'd like a desk chained to his wheelchair by any chance, Percy nodded off towards the copies of The Daily Prophet. They were still in a neat little stack. She had a glass of orange juice sat on the most tragic news of his life. Lovely.

"Been attacked by flying memos?" she added on. "Choked on a chocolate biscuit and had a cardiac arrest?"

Malkin then grabbed The Daily Prophet and looked surprised as she took in the words. Percy knew for a fact that he was still the hottest topic they had. Fortunately, on account of him being mute, nobody bothered him for quotes.

"A stroke," Madam Malkin reiterated in disbelief. Every time someone said that word, Percy felt the need to ask for a sickle. If he had, then he'd at least have enough to buy himself a new pair of robes for free. Did you see the prices on here? A hundred Galleons for a few tufts of fabric? "You've had a stroke…at twenty-bloody-three."

He supposed a sickle for every time they mentioned stroke and twenty-three… Percy slowly nodded his head.

"You can't talk, can you?" Malkin asked, only for Percy to shake his head. Her good nature had worn off and her hands were shaking. It was almost like she cared about his wellbeing. Merlin, that wrinkled goat really did care. She looked like she'd just heard that another one of her ten daughters had run off with another Beauxbaton pretty boy after getting pregnant. She placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at him with a softened expression. Percy opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't. "I suppose I'll see what we can get for you. I—…um…"

Before she could say anything else, Percy felt his wheelchair sliding backwards.

That hunk of junk was giving him a headache. Maybe you shouldn't be buying wheelchairs off second-hand but…

Before he could finish his thought, he was flying through the store. He'd gotten into the vampire robes display, choking on 'coffin safe' leather robes that looked like they belonged in Charming Cunts magazine. As he tried to get off the leather robes, his wheelchair turned spontaneously and accidentally rammed Percy's head into the wall.

I already have a perpetual headache! Percy thought to himself. They're called Fred and George!

After seeing some of the chocolate stars that were on Lucy's favourite cupcakes form right before his eyes, he was wheeled straight down the line. Customers ran away, because they were afraid of getting squashed by an uncontrollable wheelchair.

Was that his healer? "Percy! I thought that Ron was really clever with the Ford Anglia," she shrieked, holding a pair of robes with trains all over them. "Is that a new invention? The flying wheelchair?" she asked, looking impressed. "Look everyone! My favourite ever stroke patient has just invited the flying wheelchair! Amazing!"

"FLYING…WHEELCHAIR!" Percy heard the rest of them cheer. "FLYING…WHEELCHAIR!"

Percy almost failed Flying. He hated flying, and he most definitely did not want to float off the ground in these!

With more loops than a Chaser showing off for his fiancé, Percy managed to not only destroy the whole store in fifteen seconds flat, but his wheelchair had collected about a million robes. Everywhere he saw, he could see the blinding white fabric and thought that this must be the end. This was how he was going to die. Sat in Madam Malkin's, choked by a sparkly green scarf. At least Daphne that he looked good in green, yes? And he supposed that it was symbolic in a way because Percy almost died from a nuchal cord. He obviously had difficulty parting with his living arrangements—

Before Percy could think about it, he was thrown from his wheelchair and landed into a dazzling robe display.

"Mr Weasley are you alright?" a bloke walked towards him. Percy wondered what Charlie would think if he came into the shop now. He was in Quality Quidditch Supplies with his daughters. He had been thinking at the time that he hoped that Charlie wouldn't let them ruin any of the merchandise. Ha. Lovely. "That was quite a fall! It made the Tutshill Tornadoes look a little more like the Tutshill Tornadon'ts! Are you going to be marketing any of this?"

He paled dramatically when Percy didn't reply. "Are you choking? Do you need CPR?" he paused. "You're so pale!"

Did he look like he needed to be resuscitated? Percy didn't know if he could explain to his daughters why he had his lips locked with a strange man in the middle of a robes shop! He tried to get away but having one hand was difficult. Suddenly, he had an admiration for all those easily squished creatures. He bonded with flobberworms. He—

"Tommy, as that lady mentioned, he had a stroke. He can't talk," Madam Malkin stood there with a cold expression.

"Oh, yes, yes, a stroke," Tommy looked at her as if he knew that all along. Silly him. "Yes, yes, he's the bloke in the papers that ruined his whole life in less than a month. The one with the heart attack, then the custody issue then the stroke, isn't it, right? You are the junior assistant to the Minister of Magic, right? Or… well, you used to be before your shocking disability. I remember now. And look at you now! Rising above it all—literally!"

Madam Malkin looked at all the robes around Percy. Well, um, he'd take this all to go now! Please!

Fortunately, Madam Malkin was used to this happening. A few flicks of her wand and everything was pristine as ever. All the other customers looked stunned and wandered over to the check-out. She looked down at him, smirking.

"I have a couple of robes reserved for you already," Malkin had the strength of a hippogriff because she'd grabbed him by his waist and then plopped him down on the wheelchair as if she was putting a seven-pound baby in a stroller. Percy gawked at her. "All blue! It goes with your eyes…and the sky… well, now that you found your calling!"

Percy could just about see The Daily Prophet tomorrow: STROKE VICTIM FLIES IN WHEELCHAIR. LOOKS GOOD IN BLUE.

After leaving Madam Malkin's with shopping bags all over his wheelchair, Percy met up with Charlie on the bench, who sipped away at a mint chocolate shake. "Flying wheelchairs, ah?" he asked to which Percy flushed. He did know that these stupid things could be operated on intense bursts of emotion and um…Percy did have intense feelings. Lovely.

He had managed not to wet himself the whole day (from anxiety, he would like to mention. Fortunately, he had control of his bladder.) But the thought of meeting the Brown family again left him feeling apprehensive. But considering that he had made Charlie sign a waiver that stated that they were not leaving until they came to a clear conclusion, Percy couldn't back himself out of it for the fear that he would hate himself forever.

The house was just like Percy remembered it… except, you know, for the fact that it was completely different.

It was a gigantic mansion with a huge fountain now. As they wheeled him over there, Percy felt himself pale. He had a bouquet of pathetic yellowing gardenias. He might as well have been offering the Devil's Snare considering the rest of the gardenias in the garden looked like they were ready for a bloody wedding. There was a grey stony plaque in the centre, covered in all kinds of flowers, saying LUCY CLAIRE BROWN. There were pictures of her everywhere. There were pictures of Audrey with her split lip, which Percy had never seen before. There were other pictures of a teeny translucent looking baby that looked like she had been starved to death. Percy stroked the cold stone, shuddering.

"I'm sorry, Percy," Charlie's voice was genuinely apologetic. More genuine that the promises he'd made her.

Percy wondered if he could steal one of the photos of her split lip. He wondered how it would've felt like to feel the skin under his hand. When he closed his eyes, he could practically see her gigantic ones staring back at him. Before he knew it, his eyes were filling with tears and he could hardly stop it from spilling over his freckled cheeks.

"I know that nobody else talked to you about it, but we all wish that we could've met her," Percy looked up, drinking up every word that Charlie was saying. "Perce, her death is eating you up inside. Do you think that's healthy? Even though you didn't know her for so long, do you really think that she'd want you mourning over her like this?"

Percy shook his head. He knew that he was unhealthily obsessing over what could've been, but he couldn't help it.

He picked up his bouquet and then added it to the pile, but it was dwarfed by Impressive Arrangement Number 38 and Impressive Arrangement Number 39. Percy looked at his daughters, who were busy picking at daisies. They didn't know that this whole garden practically celebrated their dead mum, and well… he wasn't about to tell them.

Percy turned back and noticed Candance standing there. She looked like she belonged in Primpernelle's toy box.

She was stood there in a pair of bright pink trousers, along with a white top that would look sensible if not for the fact that her breasts were threatening to burst out. They were even more Quaffle-sized than they were before, and her full lips were unnaturally plump. Her blonde hair pulled back into a bun. She was unhealthy thin. Candace's eyes were on Molly and Lucy, who were probably dismantling her garden and all the things that she worked hard for.

Percy offered her a piece of paper. The gall of me I'm aware, but I just would like to talk. Percy then offered the letter that Audrey wrote to him, the last letter that she'd ever written. As Candace read it, Percy was terrified that she'd tell him off. Tell him that he'd made it up and that he was a horrible person that should've died in that first hospital admission.

"You still pay for her flat," Candace finally said, sounding stiff. "I visited last week."

Percy nodded his head slowly, his lips pursed into a thin line. Of course, I do, you senile cow… I love her!

"It looks the same. It smells the same," Candace said, as if Percy wasn't aware of that. "Do you want to come in?"

Charlie had his hand on Percy's wheelchair and his knuckles had turned white. He had heard the story. He knew what this woman had said to Percy, had done to him. But Percy couldn't take him seriously because he didn't look as enthralled as he did constipated. Percy wanted to tell him to calm down lest he got haemorrhoids.

A few minutes later, he was wheeled into the house. It looked the same on the inside. It smelled the same.

Dominic had almost dropped the cup of tea he was holding the second that he saw Percy sat there in his pathetic wheelchair. Dominic looked like he'd seen a ghost. He looked down at Molly and Lucy and then looked away, his whole face turning as white as a sheet. Tears were filling his eyes. He looked as undernourished as ever.

"What… what happened to you?" Dominic asked, looking at Percy with a look he recognised as guilt.

What happened to you? Percy thought to himself. Dominic looked like a walking Inferi. He didn't look human.

"I tried to find you a few days after," Dominic admitted, rubbing his eyes. Percy suddenly felt like he really was at home with these people. Because there wasn't anyone in his family that would ever understand how much of a tragedy Audrey's death was. They didn't understand how Audrey's death left a gigantic hole in his heart, but they understood. They lost her too. "I waited in the flat sometimes. After I saw what you…what you kept doing after what-what I did… the flowers. Flowers every bloody week. You remembered all her favourite flowers. God, I don't even remember them! And I've known her for eighteen bloody years. You…you barely knew her, but you remembered. All of them!"

"Dad thinks about mum all the time!" Molly said excitedly. "It's so romantic," she breathed out. Pardon him. He was not going to hear his five-year-old talk about anything being romantic! Percy shot her a look.

"Uh huh!" Lucy agreed. "He looks so dumb when he dozes off, like he's got some big secret! But we all know what he's thinking about. It's so boring. He'd be drinking tea and think 'oh, she likes to drink it black.' Yuck."

Percy did not doze off and smile to himself like he had a big secret. Alright, well, he supposed that he did do it on occasion. And maybe it was not 100% sane to close his eyes whenever he had a problem and ask Audrey what he should do. Nor was it 100% sane to visit your dead wife's grave every other day, even though you were only married to her for the span of two weeks. And knew her for a few months. But, well…

"You loved her," Dominic said, sounding like he had just realised that. "You really loved her. And we…I…"

Percy nodded his head slowly. For five bloody years, he'd loved her. He gave Dominic his left hand and the muggle bloke shook it as firmly as he could. Percy then raised an eyebrow, before snatching up Dominic's cold cup of tea. He was thirsty! Was anyone ever going to offer him up a drink? Did he really have to go by snatching other people's cups?

He took a sip, feeling a little shaky. He hadn't had anything since he refused to drink a grey pomegranate shake. Grey!

Just then, Candace swooned by with a plate of small almond biscuits. Molly and Lucy immediately leaped, cramming as much tiny biscuits into their mouth. They didn't even ask if they were organic. Candace managed to swipe one and offer it to Percy, who just shook his head even though he really did miss eating biscuits. And he'd never eaten almond biscuits that looked like that before. "Can you get more tea for Percy?" Charlie asked, rubbing Percy's shoulder. "He hasn't really had much yet on account of a grey-looking pomegranate shake. And… well, he can't exactly swallow."

"You can't swallow?" Dominic looked horrified, as if he was the reason that Percy had his stroke. "God."

Percy just smiled weakly at him. Dominic insisted on wheeling him over to the living room, where everyone was lounging at. Candace had a new tray of almond biscuits and a fresh pot of tea out. Valentina and Sophia's suspicious looks melted. Timothy walked over to Molly and Lucy, shrieking in excitement. He still had split lip, and Molly and Lucy were not rude enough to mention it out right, like true British girls. They'd just ask about it later.

They sat there in silence, as Percy sipped his tea, feeling the liquid warm his weary bones. He felt content.

They talked about Audrey when Molly and Lucy were playing with Timothy. Well, Percy just listened. He really wanted to let go. He wanted to move on, but a part of him was clinging on so tightly. But maybe this was just how it was supposed to be. Maybe he just had to learn to cope with remembering all the time. Maybe that was enough.

Even though he was ecstatic at the time, he couldn't remember the conversations they'd had that night.

He thought that this would change everything, but the second he laid down that night, he could hear Candace telling him off for killing his daughter and he could see the colour drain out of Audrey's face. She was so special. Her death wasn't fair. It was never going to be fair. And as long as Percy breathed, he'd always think he'd rather it was him.

When he woke up, he expected that Charlie would be beside him, but he was snoring on a mattress.

Daphne Greengrass was lying beside him, holding his hand as he panted vigorously. Daphne fluttered her bright blue eyes, staring at him with a worried expression. She inched in a little closer, and then kissed his cheek. "I love you so much," Daphne whispered. She couldn't have meant it because she was so exhausted. But then he realised that she was holding his hand, squeezing it a second later as if to confirm that it was true.

Even if I still love her? Percy wondered, but he was suddenly glad he couldn't ask her. He didn't want to ask her.